


fifty-four

by Daydreamer5187



Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Beating, Blood, Eventual Happy Ending, Gen, Guilty Tony Stark, Happy Hogan is a Good Bro, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt Tony Stark, Hydra, Injury Recovery, Irondad, James "Rhodey" Rhodes is a Good Bro, Medical Procedures, Suicidal Thoughts, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony accidentally hurts Peter, Torture, Whump, and hates himself for it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-04
Updated: 2019-09-04
Packaged: 2020-10-06 19:33:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20512322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daydreamer5187/pseuds/Daydreamer5187
Summary: It starts when Tony wakes up chained in a HYDRA facility. It ends with him almost beating Peter Parker to death. The in-between and the after are as painful as can be imagined.or; HYDRA has its fun with a captured Tony Stark, and conditions him to attack on command. Unfortunately, an ill-fated rescue mission has Peter on the receiving end of this.





	fifty-four

**Author's Note:**

  * For [blondsak](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blondsak/gifts).

> My last Irondad story had the number 'five' in the title; maybe I've got like a kink for the number 5 - who knows? Or whump, because this is definitely whumpy. Enjoy!

Tony Stark, despite popular belief, felt fear quite regularly. He had PTSD and frequent panic attacks, of course he did. The fear he felt when he woke up chained to a wall, the Hydra emblem gleaning at him in the red light of his cell was unmatched to anything he’d felt before.

He remembered the attack in Manhattan, it had come out of nowhere, sudden charges of power exploding and taking out buildings in their wake. He’d felt the explosions throw his suit like little more than a plaything, all the civilians running, screaming, devastated. Then he was falling, the suddenness of it making his heart stutter in his chest.

Peter had called for him- **_Peter_**.

Oh God, what if they had him too? They couldn’t have got him too. _Please._

He didn’t remember what happened after he hit the ground, but he could guess.

He was here, after all. He was here and he was terrified.

Tony debated whether or not he should move and attempt to escape his restraints, at the risk of alerting his captors he was awake, or stay still and bide his time a for a little longer, when the door opened with a metallic screech and four silhouettes entered the cell.

Perhaps in another situation the inventor might’ve made a sarcastic comment, but this was Hydra, and even Tony Stark wouldn’t dare. 

“We know you’re awake,” one of the silhouettes singsonged in an English accent. “You can’t hide anything from us here.”

His voice sent goosebumps up Tony’s spine, like the brush of a razor blade - not painful but ever so threatening. He responded by lifting his head to face the man.

He watched in mild fascination as the Hydra agent tapped his watch and activated a hologram which projected Tony’s heart rate, location, and a counter which at the moment said zero. The cuffs, the billionaire realized belatedly, the cuffs must have sensors in them.

Swallowing, Tony made his first attempt at a reply. “Why am I here?”

Without warning the lights burst into existence, attacking Tony’s eyes with their fluorescence. He bit back a cry and shielded his eyes as best as he could, tilting his head to the side and furrowing his eyes shut.

The room glowed it was so white.

Tony’s fingers itched for his sunglasses, the brightness of his surroundings pounding into his corneas and piercing the back of his skull. Warily he let his eyes relax open, hoping that they would eventually adjust and allow him to see his captors.

They were grinning at him, sinister, dangerous things that reminded him of snakes more than people. He knew which one had spoken to him; the man was the only one dressed in a business suit whereas his colleagues all sported crude Hydra uniforms and were armed to their teeth. He had light skin, chestnut hair, and eyes so blue they appeared ethereal.

“You’re here because we felt like it,” the man finally replied, touching another button on his wrist and releasing Tony’s cuffs from their chains. Tony landed with a grunt, his ankle giving out and sending him crashing to his knees. He made to get up but was halted by that man’s cutting voice once again, “No, stay there.”

Tony did, but didn’t shy away from making eye contact with his captor. “I like to know the name of my kidnappers,” he grit, clenched fists hanging uselessly at his sides.

“Warner,” the man supplied, an amused smirk pulling his lip upwards. He bowed exaggeratedly. “At your service, oh Highness of Death.”

“That’s not my title anymore.” _It never was,_ Tony thought.

“We’ll see about that, after we’re finished with you.”

Cold washed through Tony’s veins. Before he could properly think about his words he was blurting, “I won’t build you anything, no matter what you do to me.”

Warner laughed. “We are not some low grade terrorists who want you to build us one of your infamous weapons. Firstly, we’ve our own; a fact you were made privy to in Manhattan today. Secondly, we know you’ve some experience with... physical coercion... but let me assure you that that is _nothing_ compared to what we have in store for you.”

Tony watched with dejected expectation as Warner pressed another button on his watch and the cuffs instantly began to shoot streams of agony through his veins. He collapsed to the ground with a hoarse shout, going boneless in the fire’s wake. His muscles were going to spasm but he could hardly care when his entire body was _screaming_ in agony.

It stopped as suddenly as it came, leaving the inventor panting on the ground.

“A little more complex than simple waterboarding, yes? More effective I suspect as well.”

“I told you, I won’t build you anything.”

The entire group suddenly advanced on him, quickly invading his personal space as Warner knelt next to him and harshly yanked his hair back.

“And _I_ told _you_ that that’s not what we’re after. No, _you’re_ going to kill many, many people all because we want you to.”

Tony blinked, his confusion evident. Flashes of the Winter Soldier invaded his mind and he wondered if the same fate awaited him.

“No,” Warner smirked like he could read his mind, his voice condescending, “we’re not interested in another of Steve Rogers’ ex-boyfriends becoming our newest assassin.”

Tony couldn’t restrain his eye-roll. “Then what,” he grunted, “what do you expect me to do?”

“You never had children, did you?” Tony’s body tensed at the sudden change in topic.

“No,” he replied warily. “Never got around to it.” It was a lie, but not on paper.

“But you’ve a wife?”

“Never got around to making that official either.”

Warner hummed. “I don’t appreciate being lied to, Mr.Stark,” he tutted.

“I haven’t-” he was cut off by a scream tearing its way through his throat, jerking messily against the ground as the cuffs reactivated.

“_I told you_, you can’t hide anything from us here, including your whelp,” Warner hissed as Tony writhed, the inventor’s eyes widening in fear. “So I _expect_ you to do as we say, or _you_ can expect to watch dear Peter Parker be tortured until he _begs_ for death, and then we’ll slit his throat and you can watch him bleed.”

“_N-no,_” Tony gasped, “y-you don’t have him-” another wave of pain cut his sentence off.

“Not yet, but we have you, how hard do you think it’ll be to get him here?”

The pain ended abruptly, but Tony felt a new kind of pain rip through him at the thought of Peter being brought _here_. “I’ll do whatever you want me to do,” he hissed, “don’t bring him into this.”

“Good,” Warner smiled, standing straight and stepping away from Tony’s collapsed form. “In a few moments you’ll hear that door buzz open, when it does one of our more... _disposable_ men will enter, unarmed of course. You will kill him, and if you fail you know what will happen.”

Eyes widened almost comically, Tony sputtered in response to the demand. “W-what? You’re insane! N-”

“I’d think very hard about what you’re about to say, Stark.” The man’s voice promised nothing but pain and blood and screams, gone was the false sense of amusement. “And the consequences of your actions."

Something beeped and a projection flickered onto the wall opposite Tony’s restraints. The inventor gasped in dismay. “No. How did you...?”

“We’ve your suit, and you had quite a surveillance system set up for your boy. Poor thing, look at him, crying for his father.” Peter’s eyes were rimmed with red, and he looked truly wrecked as he stared aimlessly at his wall. It was a live feed, Tony could tell, Peter’s alarm clock blaring the time back at him. “Hydra is closer to him than you thought, I hope you realize.”

Tony’s suit was supposed to be un-hackable for this _exact_ reason. He was supposed to keep Peter _safe_; the thought of him being taken and tortured because of _him_ was unbearable. So he would do whatever they said, for he could handle blood on his hands but he couldn’t handle _Peter’s_. The feed cut away away and Tony felt such an immense sense of loss he couldn’t breathe.

“Fine,” he whispered. “Fine, I’ll do it.”

Warner smiled at him, reminding Tony too much of a shark. “Good,” he said, “I’m going to enjoy this.”

Tony was only alone for a moment after they left, only able to try and come to terms to what he’d agreed to for a _moment_ before an ugly, blaring, buzzing, sound went off and held for one second, two, and the door opened.

The inventor stood, determined to face down his opponent with as much dignity as possible. But it was just a boy; he was in a Hydra uniform and looked very intent on killing Tony, but still, he was just a boy.

Ten minutes later Tony collapsed back to the floor, the white room stained with a growing red, and he sobbed.

And somewhere in the facility the counter in Warner’s watch beeped and the counter flickered from zero to _one_.

* * *

**Two months later**

Peter knew that Mr.Stark was still alive, he would’ve _felt_ if they killed him. When Rhodey found out it was Hydra behind the attack he’d taken Peter aside and told him that even if he was right Tony was as good as dead.

Peter had pushed him, yelled at him, accused him of indifference and abandonment.

The words felt like lead on his tongue as soon as he saw the flash of pain in the colonel’s eyes. Rhodey had lost his best friend, he missed him just as much as Peter did, and Peter had been cruel to him. The teen apologized the next day, but explained that he couldn’t just _give up_.

Now he’d _finally_ found a way to locate Mr.Stark, knew which warehouse he was being kept in, and Rhodey didn’t want him going. Talk about adult hypocrisy.

“But I’m the one who found him,” Peter argued, pacing frustratedly. “You didn’t even want to try!”

“I did try, Peter,” Rhodey groaned, “and I’m proud of you for finding that warehouse but you have to understand why I can’t let you go.”

Peter wasn’t stupid, he knew what they’d all been doing since Tony went missing. Rhodey, Happy, even Pepper had gotten it into their heads that since they _thought_ Mr.Stark wasn’t coming back it was up to them to protect Peter.

“No, explain it to me. I’m _enhanced_, I can _help_.”

“And what would Tony say to this?”

“Don’t do that,” Peter ground out. “Don’t use him as an excuse, if _you_ won’t let me go _you_ tell me why.”

“Because I don’t want you seeing something you won’t recover from,” Rhodey finally hissed. “This is _Hydra_, Peter, do you understand what that means? That means that we have no guarantee that Tony is alive, and if he is, what condition he’s in. I don’t want you seeing that. And I don’t want to put you into that kind of danger, bringing you there.”

“Tony would go for me in a second.”

“Of course he would, Peter, but he’s an adult and you’re a-”

“Don’t call me a child, I’m not-”

“Yes you are. You’re Tony’s kid, and I can’t let you be hurt.”

“The other Avengers aren’t here anymore. You need me.” Grim satisfaction overtook Peter as he caught Rhodey’s jaw clench. He was right. Hydra was definitely Avengers business, and without the others the police may not be enough. “I won’t do the fighting bits Rhodey, just let me look for Mr.Stark, _please_.”

Before, the colonel had always wondered how and why Tony always caved in whenever Peter begged him for something. Now, he understood just fine.

“Fine, but things go south and you’re gone, promise.”

“I promise.”

Peter had never needed anything as much as he needed to be there when they rescued Mr.Stark. It was like a primal instinct, the same instinct that had driven him to continue a seemingly hopeless search, or told him to cling to that spaceship when everything else told him to let go; he was quite sure he’d never have been able to sit idle on the sidelines.

What the teenager hadn’t anticipated was the vehement resistance from Happy.

He’d actually _shouted_ at Rhodey about Peter’s attendance. Yelling about responsibility, and risk, and _really_ yelling about Peter’s safety. In the end, he knew it was a losing battle, so in a moment of uncharacteristic tenderness he grabbed Peter by the arms and made the teen look at him.

“You stay safe, you hear?” Peter nodded his head, trying to reassure the man with his eyes alone. “No, I want to hear you say it.”

“I already promised Rho-”

“Well, promise _me_ now,” Happy insisted.

“I promise I’ll do my best to stay safe.”

“Good.” Happy released him. “Because we are not-” the bodyguard cut off his sentence but Peter knew what he meant. _We are not losing you too. _“We’re not dealing with the paperwork of an injured intern.”

“Of course not,” Peter grinned. “I probably won’t even be noticed, I’m going in in one of their uniforms.”

“Alright,” Happy said softly, taking a step back from Peter. He locked eyes with Rhodey and the two shared an understanding.

_Take care of him._

_I will._

* * *

He remembered when the room was white enough to hurt his eyes.

The blood had been so noticeable then, a splash of crimson that demanded his attention. _Look at me, _it shouted, _look at what you did!_

It shouted and it whispered and somehow it did both.

Then the tenth body had been removed, the fifteenth, the twentieth, and the blood itself wasn’t so noticeable anymore, spread as it was around the room. The whispers, however, they were ever constant.

But there was a routine. Rules. An order to things. They had never been unpredictably cruel to him and Tony didn’t know if he should be grateful or not.

Because yes, he’d had his fair share of torture in the past weeks, agony that erupted from the cuffs and spread through his veins like liquid fire, but at least he always knew _why_. Why, and what he could do to not upset them in the future.

And if he was good they let him watch Peter for a little while, sometimes he was patrolling (which wasn’t all that often anymore) and sometimes he was sleeping, but it was Peter and Tony knew it would be the only way he’d ever get to see the kid again.

And then the signal would go off and the door opened and Tony attacked. Because that was the rule: noise=attack silence=kneel and if he got it wrong they’d make sure he was sorry.

When he was done and the bodies were taken away he still felt the same guilt as his first, but he didn’t cry, not anymore. He felt shame too, he was little more than a trained dog and he knew it, despite being called his former moniker. Prince of Death indeed.

Had they not threatened to take Peter if he died Tony was sure he’d have taken his own life by now.

* * *

Peter heard the shouts and the bullets from above, enhanced hearing and all, and he winced every time a bullet cut off a shout, but it was necessary.

No one really shot him a second glance, dressed as he was, face hidden under the standard issue ski-mask and uniform matching them all. Everyone was running around after all, no one person really in charge of what should be done about the twenty plus Iron Man suits attacking their base, headed by the War Machine. They were all just attacking the threat willy-nilly. Peter had a suit on him as well, underneath the Hydra uniform Spider-Man was waiting - more bullet protection than anything, he didn’t hope nor expect to be taking off his disguise - and in a buttoned pocket one of Mr.Stark’s nanobot watches. For when they took him home. When, not if.

He rushed through the corridors, mindful how the security progressively got tighter and tighter. The prison cells were around here, he knew it.

574RK, one read. Peter recognized its other meaning instantly. STARK

Huh. For the most deadly and cruelest evil organization in the world they sure had a lame sense of humour.

Peter removed the Trojan drive from his belt, inserting it covertly into the keypad on Tony’s cell, waiting patiently as it flashed orange. The door would be open soon, and Tony would be on the other side, and he would be _alive_. Peter knew it.

He had to be. 

* * *

By the time he’d breached the control room Rhodey was exhausted. Emotionally, spiritually, physically, you name it, he was tired. He didn’t like killing and yet he’d done enough of it today to last a person their lifetime.

But then Peter’s voice had flickered through his comm, a hushed whisper of “_I’ve located Mr.Stark’s cell, retrieval time is an estimated three minutes,_” and Rhodey found within himself a new vigour.

He prepared himself for another fight, so it was a jarring shock when he breached the control room and found not twenty men but one. One man, with light brown hair and piercing blue eyes, lounging with his feet propped on the desk and playing with a holographic image above his watch.

Frankly, it stopped Rhodey in his tracks.

“Good afternoon, Colonel Rhodes,” the man drawled with an English accent. “Did you make it here okay? I’ve found traffic in America doesn’t fare much better than London.”

Rhodey would bet his entire life-savings that this man was in charge. He raised his blaster. “We got here fine, thanks.”

“Yes, you and the Peter Parker boy.” Rhodey froze, his heartbeat drumming obnoxiously in his ear. “Don’t worry,” the man teased, “we won’t touch him; our little deal with Mr.Stark.”

“Tony’s alive then?” Rhodey hoped it did not sound as desperately hopeful as he thought it did.

“Of course,” Warner hummed, finally swivelling to fully face Rhodey. “Would you like to see?”

Rhodey watched tensely as Warner fiddled with his watch. His blaster twitched, unsure if there was a threat or not. The man seemed to see this, slowing his movements almost mockingly and displaying a new hologram.

Tony’s face glared at Rhodey, right above his location - the warehouse they were in - and next to his steady heartbeat. It released a knot in Rhodey’s heart he hadn’t exactly known was there. Then something else caught the colonel’s eyes.

Swallowing past a lump in his throat, he regained his voice. “What does fifty-four mean?”

The Englishman smiled, and it sent goosebumps up Rhodey’s spine. “You’ll see.”

SHIELD definitely wants someone like him. “Get on your knees,” Rhodey said, regaining his nerve slowly, “hands up.”

Warner complied, sinking from the seat in surrender. And still, Rhodey felt like he was the prey and this smirking, mild man the predator.

“Before you take me in, I’m afraid there’s one more thing I must show you,” Warner said casually. “For I see that the boy hero is close to entering Anthony’s cell.”

Rhodey’s eyes flickered to the security screens. He was right. “Don’t move,” he hissed.

“Oh, but colonel,” the man grinned, “I assure you, you will want to see this.”

“I said don’t move!” Warner’s hands began to drift down from their surrender. “Stay where you are!”

“Our final curtain;” Warner announced, “what we turned Tony Stark into...” And his hand shot for a button on the desk.

Rhodey’s blaster fired, killing on impact.

But it was too late, because at that very same second four floors beneath them a cell door opened and a signal alarm blared through the air.

* * *

Peter huffed a sigh of relief as the locking mechanism released. He was antsy to get in there and get Mr.Stark _out_. The noise that followed the door opening almost collapsed the boy where he stood, loud and shrill and so very ominous, but it ended after a few seconds and he was still standing, so he carried on. 

“Mr.Stark,” he called into the bright room, “Mr.Stark?”

It smelled overwhelmingly like copper. Peter realized belatedly that it was the stench of blood, the place positively was _covered_ in it; Peter turned to the side, struggling not to vomit.

A fatal mistake on his part, it turns out, because the next thing he knew he was being slammed to the ground by something - _someone_. Mr.Stark, specifically. No wonder his Spidey-Senses didn’t go off, Mr.Stark could never hurt him.

Well- he definitely _could_, but he wouldn’t. Right?

Tony’s fist slammed into his cheek, forcing his head against the cement-hard floor. Right.

“Tony stop!” Peter twisted underneath his mentor’s knees, wrapping his own around the inventor’s waist and flipping them over. “It’s me! It’s Peter!”

The man let out a guttural yell, pulling his fist back and swinging. Peter caught it easily, pushing it back towards the ground; he felt Tony’s wrist snap underneath his grip, and Tony _screamed_.

“Shit,” the boy yelped, scrambling away from his mentor. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to-”

Peter watched wide-eyed as Tony tried to overcome the pain. His stomach churned with guilt, he was here to help Mr.Stark and he just _broke his arm_. The man was too weak for someone like Peter to handle roughly. Mr.Stark just didn’t know it was him, if he took off his ski-mask he would recognize him and it’d be fine.

So he did. And it did nothing. Mr.Stark writhed for a second more before turning himself over, standing, and setting his eyes on the teenager again. It didn’t even look like he _recognized_ Peter.

Tony advanced on him still, clutching the fractured limb close to his chest. Peter began backing himself up towards the wall, determined not to fight the man.

“Tony stop. It’s me, it’s Peter.” He felt his back hit the wall as the mechanic closed the distance between them. Peter lamely pressed his palms against the man’s chest, trying to gently push him away. “Mr.Stark, it’s _me!_”

Even with the broken wrist Tony was able to strike Peter, the teen felt the fist collide with his cheek once, twice, and finally it twisted into his hair and _smashed_ his head into the wall.

The boy collapsed with a gasp, stars bursting across his vision. Tony didn’t waste any time, taking the opportunity to kick Peter’s ribs until he was sure one cracked.

Now Peter’s Spidey-Sense was going off full gusto but he was too dazed to do anything without hurting his attac- without hurting Tony.

“Stop!” He curled into himself as Tony’s blows began to escalate in force. “Tony, stop it,” he shrieked, “Stop it!”

The inventor’s weight settled on his chest, the pressure of his knees adding a new layer of bruises. Panicked hands scrambled for purchase as the inventor made his intent to choke Peter’s life away _very_ clear. Peter pushed the grip around his throat away as forcefully as he dared, flipping them over again.

He was so dizzy, and a pain had spread to his entire body, permeating his muscles and blood vessels and bones. Tears trickled down his cheeks and splashed against Mr.Stark’s chest.

Peter took his chance, knowing moving his arms would allow Mr.Stark to attack him again, he desperately smashed the button against his ear that opened his comm-link to Rhodey.

“Rhodey!” he shrieked, his pain too intense to even try and hide the tears in his voice, “Rhodey I need hel-!”

Mr.Stark drove his knee into Peter’s stomach, earning his release and grappling with the teenager for his position. Knowing he’d be unable to get to his neck the inventor flipped the pair over and drove his elbow into the boy’s chest.

Peter cried out before suddenly cutting himself off, gasping for air that wouldn’t come. It was like a vacuum had opened in his lungs, he was breathing but he wasn’t getting air. It felt... wet.

Tony hit him again. And again. And again. And Peter realized he was sobbing because it _hurt_ and it was _Tony_ and he didn’t want to hurt him and he wasn’t even sure if he _could_ at this point.

Tony Stark was beating him to death.

It was a disturbing reality to face because, by all means, it made no sense. Peter’s own brain was having a hard time even understanding that that statement was truth, reality, not a nightmare he could wake up from.

That was the scene Rhodey found when he finally made it to the cell. His chest heaved with the efforts of his mad dash down there, but when he crossed the threshold into that horrific room he froze.

He thought, when Peter had screamed for him, that he’d find his best friend dead and his kid being attacked by some Hydra agent; the mere thought of it had gripped his heart with despair but it was somehow better than _this_.

Because _this_, this Hell of a scene where his best friend was _beating Peter_, meant that they’d well and truly broken Tony Stark. Because Rhodey knew with certainty Tony -two months ago - would have rather died than hurt his kid.

“Tony!” He sprinted across the room to where the two were struggling with each other, ripping the inventor away from the teen. “Tony, what are you doing?!”

Rhodey didn’t expect the ferocity that Tony fought him with, animalistic struggles desperate to attack the boy. “Tony! It’s Rhodey! You need to stop! It’s over! It’s _over_!”

Tony blinked a few times, the change in routine disorientating him away from his now automatic response. It was like something had cut all of his strings, he sagged in Rhodey’s arms, unable to hold himself up anymore.

The realization of what he’d done came crashing through his mind and ripped horrified wails from his throat.

“_No_... no, no, no, no, no, _Peter_-” he sobbed, “Rhodey _please_! I’m sorry, I’m _sorry_, please, _help him_.”

Peter watched the scene through blurry eyes, his tears and blood obscuring his vision. He didn’t understand what was happening; why Mr.Stark started nor why he now stopped, why he was desperately sucking air and yet still felt like he was drowning, why he hurt everywhere and yet felt absolutely numb. In a kind of displaced way, he could feel his body’s efforts to heal him, had he been unenhanced he’d be dead, because none of his injuries were mending. He knew everything he had was being spent keeping himself alive.

Rhodey reluctantly let his grip slacken, wincing a bit when Tony collapsed to the ground in both pain and anguish. The man was gasping wretched, horrible breaths, rocking and pulling at his hair, almost unaware of the unnatural angle of his arm.

_Dear God, what happened to him?_

The thought didn’t have long to settle in the colonel’s mind before his attentions were turned back to Peter.

Peter, who had blood dribbling down his mouth, and was making awful wet sounding noises that might’ve been gasps for air, and was slowly beginning to slow his movements as he fell unconscious.

Rhodey rushed to him with widened eyes, terror making his limbs clumsy and stiff as he examined the child. Tony made another desperate plea and stumbled towards them. It was instinctual, and Rhodey didn’t mean to, but everything was so confusing because Peter had been attacked and the attacker was still there, but it was _Tony_ and Tony looked and sounded _devastated_, but he was the _attacker_.

And all of this left Rhodey confused and desperate to protect the both of them. So when Tony rushed towards them the colonel hadn’t had time to sort through everything that happened and just reacted.

Tony stumbled forward only to halt like he’d been hit as Rhodey rounded on him and protectively shielded Peter. “No, stay there,” his friend barked, half looking like he was going to shoot him.

He could. Tony was a _threat_. Look at what he _did_.

Something snapped in his chest at the thought. Rhodey saw it break and immediately regretted his actions, but he didn’t know what to _do_. Shaking away his own anguish the _ever in control_ solider fished the watch from Peter’s pocket and approached Tony as fast as he dared to.

It was hard to talk through the tightness in his chest as he watched his friend kneel unprompted in front of him with practiced ease, tears gathered on his lashes and staining his face. He took Tony’s arm gently and snapped the watch on, his fingers brushing over the cuffs despairingly. “We’ll find a way to get these off soon,” he mumbled. “Until then, FRIDAY take us home.”

The nanobots encased their creator, responding both to and for him as they formed his suit, following taking flight with their pre-designated route. Meanwhile, Rhodey awkwardly picked Peter up and followed, hoping to God that he wasn’t too late, for either of them.

* * *

It was a rush from there, they’d expected a mad dash back to the medical facility, so the med team was ready, but they weren’t expecting two patients in such critical condition.

Not that Tony was accepting any medical attention, oh no, some things never change.

As soon as the Mark had released him he’d collapsed away from it, not waiting for the nanobots to degenerate back to his wrist and instead ripping away the watch and throwing it away from himself.

Despite his absence he could still maneuver the suit like it was a second nature, he simply didn’t have the energy.

Happy had been waiting for him, the hope that lit in his eyes when he saw his boss and friend return alive might’ve endeared Tony before, but now it just nauseated him.

The inventor swayed just enough to snap Happy out of his stupor and the man rushed towards Tony just in time to catch his collapsing form.

“We’re gonna take a trip to the MedBay now,” he murmured shifting Tony in his arms a bit. He didn’t expect the resistance he was met with.

“No!” Tony tried pushing himself away from his friend’s grip. “Peter-” he gasped, and Happy felt a jolt of fear freeze his blood, “Peter needs it more than me - _help him_\- oh God,” Tony wailed.

Struggling to keep his composure Happy angled the inventor so he had a grip on both his arms but they now faced each other properly. “What happened to Peter, Tony?” There was an urgency in his voice that pulled Tony out of his tormented ramblings. “Tony, Peter and Rhodey aren’t back yet, you need to tell me what happened so I can tell the med team.”

“I did,” he whispered.

Alarm bells rang in Happy’s head but he persisted. “What exactly happened?”

“He took a beating,” Tony swallowed, looking haunted as ever, “his rib broke, I felt it go... he- he was spitting blood; I think his lung collapsed. And, and internal bleeding. He might have internal bleeding too.”

Happy nodded frantically and released Tony for a moment, nervously glancing at him every few seconds, making sure he didn’t collapse as he called Cho. When he returned it was like the inventor had just... shut down.

“Okay,” Happy said as softly as he could. “Okay let’s get you to the MedBay now too.”

“No,” Tony snarled, “I told you, Peter needs it more.”

“Boss, you need to go to the MedBay you’ve been-”

“They made me see a... someone, every few weeks. Or if I was hurt. I’m _fine_.” Happy didn’t look too convinced. “Look, if I died or couldn’t put up a fight I was no fun, okay? I’m fine.”

Happy might have fought with Tony more had Rhodey and Peter not arrived in that moment. Tony stiffened, too ashamed and too frightened to turn and see his carnage up close again. Instead, he watched as Happy’s breath hitched in dismay, his eye widening at the sight of Peter, bloodied and mangled.

“End of the hall,” he managed to bark. “Helen’s waiting. Tony already told me probable injuries.”

Rhodey nodded silently, casting his own worried glances at his friend while rushing the teenager away to his hopeful salvation.

As soon as the mechanic lost sight of Peter it was like his last shred of hope and goodness and light had disappeared too, because he absolutely lost it. Happy darted to catch him again as his knees gave way to his grief, pulling the friend he thought he’d lost for good closer to his chest while he sobbed.

“I did it!” Tony finally cried, unprompted and innocent but still confessing. “I’m the reason Peter- I was the one who-”

But Happy didn’t care, he gripped Tony tighter and let a few of his own tears loose.

Eventually, when Rhodey was finished helping prep Peter, he made his way back to where the crumpled pair sat. Gently the colonel lowered himself to their level, crouched where Tony could see him.

“You were right about the lung,” he whispered. Tony flinched. “They’re going for emergency surgeries now. Now it’s time for you to-”

“I already told you, no,” Tony hissed. 

“Peter broke your arm Tony,” Rhodey growled. “And I know there was other stuff that... happened.”

Happened. Past tense. Like it wasn’t still happening as Peter bleed into his lungs. Like this wasn’t the worst thing they’d done to him, _could do_ to him.

“He needs-”

“Not everyone on your team is a surgeon Tony, we’ll just go see someone not working right now to set your arm.”

Maybe it was because he was so, so tired, or maybe it was because he simply didn’t have the energy to fight anymore, but Tony finally agreed.

Outside the observation windows Happy pulled Rhodey to the side and hissed, “What the Hell happened?” 

“You think I don’t want to know that too?”

“How did Peter-”

“Tony did it.” 

“What?”

“I got there and Tony was beating the crap out of Peter; he was trying to kill him.”

The statement hung heavy in the air, neither man knowing what to say to that.

“Colonel Rhodes,” the doctor finally called, “he’s asking for you.”

Rhodey nodded and followed her into the small sterile med-room, where Tony was laying on the cot with a newly cast arm. He glanced at Rhodey indifferently but sat himself up nevertheless.

“How do you feel?”

“Like I look,” Tony replied, a sardonic smile playing on his lips. So, terrible.

Rhodey huffed and slumped down on the bed as Tony shifted over, and they lapsed into an awkward silence. Silences weren’t usually possible with Tony, he’d always rambled when he was nervous; so this was wrong on so many levels. Everything was wrong. From the moment they got to the facility- no, the moment Tony was taken.

“I wasn’t mind-controlled, brainwashed, drugged, or otherwise unaware,” the inventor finally stated matter-of-factly. “I was completely in my right mind when I attacked the kid.”

“We both know that isn’t true,” Rhodey growled, just barely tipping his head to watch Tony’s facial expressions - he didn’t really have any. “I took an external drive of their file for you; what are the chances I find they didn’t just leave you in a cell for two months?”

Tony quirked an eyebrow like he was amused and huffed a laugh. “Is that how long it was? Felt longer.” He laid down again, the world once again too heavy. “Did he show you the watch?”

Shifting uncomfortably, in a way only Tony knew he did, Rhodey hesitated. “Yeah, he did.”

“What was the number there?”

Another hesitation, another unknown territory. “Fifty-four.”

A sharp laugh that was too much like a sob escaped the inventor, and a wince in a way only Rhodey knew he did. “Christ that’s a lot. That could put me in a record book somewhere for that.”

“What does fifty-four mean?” Rhodey snapped. Tony went quiet, and then turned himself away from his friend, the broken arm cradled close.

“People,” he finally mumbled.

“Excuse me?” A million scenarios rang through Rhodey‘s head, each somehow more horrifying than the other, and he found himself blanching.

“People,” Tony repeated, softer. “People who I killed while I was there.” 

Rhodey felt the breath leave his lungs, but not like he was choking, like he’d been punched. Tony still wasn’t looking at him, but the colonel could imagine the guilt-stricken, pained expression ruining his expression.

“So, uh- how long until we find out if it’s fifty-five?”

“Tony,” Rhodey warned, “stop it. Peter’s going to be fine, and it wasn’t your faul-”

“I wouldn’t have stopped. I would have kept going until he was dead, and then I would have been _glad_. Just for a bit though, before I realized I just _beat my kid to death_.” And wow was there a lot to unpack there.

“Why would you have been glad?” His voice was so soft a draft could’ve carried the words away were Tony not clinging to them.

“No torture, food, they would have maybe let me see Peter.” It seemed so simple now, what he’d been living and killing for, but he remembered the complicated mess of his mind every time the buzzer went off. He didn’t remember fighting for those things when he’d do it, not after a while, after a while he would just do it.

“Show you Peter?”

“They hacked my security.” The statement wasn’t as horrifying as it’d first been, he’d come to realize he couldn’t actually do much good to his loved ones. “Sometimes he’d let me just watch him. They said if I didn’t- if I didn’t do as I was told they’d take him instead.”

“You didn’t have a choice then Tony; you were forced, conditioned even.” 

“Still fifty-four people dead because of me,” Tony hummed. “You took care of him, when you thought I was dead.”

The abruptness of the topic change left his companion scrambling for ground, Tony could tell, but the whole affair was rather shaking to begin with. “Yes,” Rhodey replied eventually, “we knew it’s what you would have wanted.”

“I do,” Tony whispered, choking on a lump in his throat. “And it makes me feel better that you’ll do it again, right?”

Every muscle in Rhodey’s body went rigid. “What does that mean Tony?” The inventor didn’t answer and Rhodey’s mind was assaulted by image after image of a drunken college student confessing he was ready to die at twenty years old. That was then, after what’s happened now? “_What does that mean?_”

“I can’t see that kid after this, I mean Christ, look what I did to him.”

“Don’t be ridiculous Tony! Peter was the one who fought to find you! He wanted you back more than anything else!” Tony had not said Peter’s name through the entire conversation.

“Yeah, and look what I did! Some gratitude right? Punctured lung, internal bleeding, pain for weeks!”

“You thought you didn’t have a choice! You are not walking away from him after he-”

“This is not your decision to make! You’ll see, he’ll never want to see me again, I guarantee. He shouldn’t have to! If he knew what was best he’d pack up and get as far away from me as possible! So just- just look after him, okay?” 

Tony sat up faster than he had any right to do, with the shape he was in, and stormed away.

“Where are you going?” Rhodey followed him, too wary of his injuries to reach and grab him back.

“I’m going to see if I can still do something worthwhile with my fucking time or if I forgot how to do that too! Tell me if I killed the kid or not but otherwise leave me alone.”

He’d descended the stairs to the lab and locked the door before Rhodey could even think to reply.

* * *

The next few hours were a painful blur for all involved.

Peter, not having Tony there to calculate his anesthesia, woke up once during his operation. It was bad; the boy had woken up howling in pain, and for a moment the surgeons had thought his flailing would be so bad that they wouldn’t be able to safely approach him. Luckily for all, Peter had stilled on his own and mewled in pain instead. 

It was not easy for Rhodey and Happy to watch, but they both agreed - no one tells Tony about it; it’d just be more ammunition for him to hate himself with.

If Happy had to excuse himself to throw up, and Rhodey later had to go to the training room and take out his frustrations destroy it, that was no one’s business. 

In truth, they’d both hoped for this day, dreamed about it, as much as Peter had. But unlike Peter, they’d known there would be a price to pay for their friend’s return. If this was the price they weren’t sure they were _ready_ to pay it. 

But Peter survived, he was brought into the recovery room Tony had once jokingly called his. (It was the nearest to Tony’s bedroom.) Now, the joke was just a bit too close to home to repeat.

Pepper was told of Tony’s rescue over a phone call, because Rhodey was a coward. There was no sobbing in relief, or soft exclamations of gratitude to a higher power. No, there was only a breathless gasp and nimble whisper of, “How bad is it?”

“Bad,” Rhodey replied. “It’s real bad Pep, I don’t think he’s ready to see you yet.”

“Alright.” And the call ended. 

But Tony was the worse of them all. 

He didn’t remember how to tinker, as he’d so hoped he would - just to get that agonizing screaming out of his head; sometimes Peter, sometimes one of the others, sometimes Peter but dying like he’d killed the others - and had instead opted to destroy whatever he could find.

He screamed at a god he didn’t believe in anymore, asking Him why, _why_ he’d been so cruel. What was the point? Of Tony doing all of that to keep Peter safe only to kill him himself. He understood wanting to punish him, but Peter was just a _child_, he was _innocent_.

Jesus Christ, he’d killed his own kid. He- he _begged_ Tony to stop, he was confused too. Tony had wanted to kill him, he remembered what was almost pure instinct running through his veins and all he could think of was the possibility of seeing Peter if he did this right.

Peter hadn’t wanted to hurt Tony. He wouldn’t even raise his hands after he broke his wrist; he shouldn’t have stopped with the wrist.

Tony was absolutely certain that if Rhodey came down and told him they’d lost Peter that he would follow shortly after.

Though, he doubted he would be going to where Peter would be; Hell is a much more appropriate destination for murderers like him.

His body, as it was, was beginning to fail him. Holding on to any thought was growing more and more difficult, trickling through his fingers like water. (Or blood.) His fingers bled from his rampage, both in his lab and in his Hell, as did the soles of his feet. He was bruised in so many places it was easier to say where he _wasn’t_ bruised.

It had _nothing_ on what his mind was doing.

MurdererMurdererMurderer- _FIFTY-FOUR_ \- I wonder what their names were; _no,no,no,no_! Peter’s dead because of you. _You you you always _**_you_**. You’re poisonpo**isonpoisonpoison** _you_ should take poison, you deserve it. Peter’s dead. Dead _dead DEAD_ **DEAD**. You liked it you **liked killing him** you wouldn’t stop he begged you to stop and you didn’t. _Monster. Monster. MonsterMonsterMonsterMurdererMurderer_\- fifty-four is a lot. Listen to him scream he screamed they all screamed and you didn’t stop murderer murderer murderer **_monster_**. _WHY_? you know why you know it’s because you’re poison. Anything you touch is ruined. Fifty-four is a lot - fifty-four? _Fifty-five_.

_So many. Too many._

No matter how much he screamed his agony, or sobbed bonelessly against the floor, or sat numbly against a lab bench which had once felt like home, his mind kept screaming. He didn’t think it’d ever stop screaming. 

That’s how Rhodey found him, hours later. After Peter had finished his disaster surgery. Tony sat against his and Peter’s old bench, staring at nothing, looking absolutely destroyed; looking dead.

“Peter is alive,” he announced first, knowing it was the only thing Tony cared about right now. “He’s in recovery but they’re pretty confident that with the healing factor he’ll be okay in a week or two.”

Tony nodded minutely, the only response he’d put his battered body and throat through.

“Do you want to see him...?” Rhodey crouched in front of him, taking stock of every injury big or small, of the burns and abrasions on his wrists, of the bruises, of the hollowness of his eyes.

“No,” Tony croaked. “No, I told you what’s going to happen.”

“Peter wouldn’t want that Tones- _doesn’t_ want that. He won’t blame you for any of this.” 

“Yeah, well, Peter’s always been too trusting for his own good.”

_I should have never knocked on that kid’s door._

* * *

So for the first time in the two years they’d known each other, Peter woke up in the MedBay alone.

He was sore pretty well everywhere, aching in a way he’d never experienced before. His head pounded something fiercely and his chest positively screamed.

But all of that didn’t matter; Tony wasn’t here. Tony was always here.

And then he remembered what had happened - all of it - from Tony’s capture to the moment they got him back. 

He broke Tony’s arm.

Tony would obviously never _really_ want to hurt him, he’d just been confused, and Peter broke his arm for it. Maybe that’s why Tony wasn’t around. Or what if he was hurt before all of that (he probably was, he was with Hydra for two months) and it was all too much and he collapsed or something?

His heart monitor gradually increased speed until it was going crazy, and with its sudden appearance also came Happy. Peter’s breathing shuddered in his chest, causing quick jabs of pain to radiate through his lungs, but it slowly slowed as Happy rubbed his back as gently as he could.

He appreciated it, he did. He loved Happy, and he’d been great for the past two months, but he wanted Mr.Stark.

“Where’s Mr.Stark?” He drew away from Happy, not liking the look of foreboding on his face. “Is he okay? What happened after I passed out? Happy?”

“He’s okay, kid,” Happy finally responded, unable to mask his trepidation, “physically, anyways. But- uh- mentally he’s not doing great. For a while there it wasn’t looking good...” the bodyguard trailed off before gasping once in relief. “You have no idea how good it is to see you awake Peter.”

“How long have I been asleep...?” He was sixteen years old, he shouldn’t sound like a child, and yet in that moment that’s exactly how he sounded; scared and unsure.

“Just a day, but they thought it might be longer. No one really knew how your healing factor would react to what happened.”

“Right, yeah, I remember feeling it work really hard on the inside and not so much on the outside; must be why I’m still so sore,” Peter huffed a half-hearted laugh. “So, I uh- I got close hey?”

There was a silence that could cut and then, “Closer than anyone ever wants repeated. It was terrifying.”

Peter broke eye contact first, fiddling with his bedsheets instead. “And Tony doesn’t want to see me, because of it?” 

It didn’t take a genius to work out that Tony would be feeling guilty about this, he thought he was responsible for the world when it came to Peter and so this? This was probably ten times worse than usual.

“-but he wants to see you, Peter.” Peter blinked, suddenly realizing Happy had been talking. “Are you okay kid, you look a bit spacey... I don’t think they gave you any morphine...”

“No, no, it’s- I don’t know, I feel a bit woozy to be honest - I’ll sleep it off. I probably just have a bit of a concussion or something, so just wake me in a few hours.”

“Sure kid.” Happy turned away to leave but stopped- “Peter, do you remember your surgery?”

“No...”

_Oh thank God_.

“I’m guessing I woke up? Otherwise you wouldn’t ask.” Happy winced, Peter was so clever, too clever sometimes.

“Just go to sleep, kid.” 

* * *

When he woke up again everything felt much better, except his head, which had zeroed in on one spot and promptly decided to do its best ice pick impression, but he normally had a bit of a headache after a concussion, so he ignored it and focussed on his company.

No Tony, yet. But Rhodey was visiting with Happy and Pepper. He’d asked of course, but figured it was rather a pitiful sight when his “Is Tony coming?” Was met with a quick shaking head and his own crestfallen expression. 

Tony always made sure he was okay.

He’d been filled in on everything that had happened to his mentor in the time he was gone, possible triggers, why things had happened as they did, etc. He felt sick just thinking about it.

He hacked Rhodey’s servers, watched some of the footage, and _did_ get sick.

But they’d moved on from grim topics for now. Now they were chatting not-quite-happily as Peter adamantly defended his position on why _Hercules_ is the best Disney movie of its time, and Rhodey tries to rebuff that anyone else would say _The Lion King_ had _Hercules_ beat by miles.

“But you can un-ironically bop to the music from _Hercules_ though,” Peter rebutted, “I don’t know anyone who parties to “Under the Sea.””

“Wrong movie, and you’re just not hanging out with the right people then, kid.”

“Jesus, kid, what is your morphine on?” Happy interjected, leaning in close to Peter’s face. “Your eyes are absolutely blown.”

“ ‘m not on morphine,” Peter mumbled, confused. “Wish I was, my head is _killing me_.”

“Want your water?” Pepper asked, already standing to fetch it.

“Sure. Yea’wat’r soun’s good,” Peter slurred, furrowing his brow when the words wouldn’t come properly. Everyone else was watching him intently too, wearing similar masks of confusion and concern.

Pepper held the plastic cup towards him, he reached to grab it and tipped it onto Pepper’s shirt, having pushed it towards her instead of holding it. The woman gasped but was unconcerned about the blouse, Peter shouldn’t be behaving like this.

“Sorry! I’m s’ sorry...” he tried, wincing again. “My head... h’rts.”

“Rhodey,” Happy looked to the colonel, who looked just as alarmed, “what’s going on? Is he on a new medication?”

“Two plus two, Peter,” Rhodey demanded, catching the teen’s attention, “what’s two plus two?”

“Five...?”

“Call the doctor.” Rhodey whipped around to order Happy, but the man was already off, pressing the call button and waiting for Cho’s appearance. “I didn’t see him hit his head, but if he did and it was hard...”

Pepper stripped Peter’s bed of all the various objects he’d had strewn about. “Stay awake,” she snapped at the boy as his eyes drifted shut. “Don’t sleep Peter.”

Too late. He slipped unconscious and his heart monitor gradually began to slow.

“Rhodey!”

“I know Pepper, there’s nothing I can do until-”

“Cho’s here, what the Hell is going on?”

How could something that had been so mundane go so wrong, so quickly?

“Someone needs to get Tony,” Pepper finally hissed, “he needs to be here, whether he wants to or not.”

No one _dared_ argue against Pepper Potts when she used that tone.

“I’ll get him.” Rhodey cast one last look at Peter, who wouldn’t wake up no matter how hard Happy shook him. The doctors were rushing in now, ready to assess and diagnose and hopefully treat. Happy and Pepper were going to be removed from the room soon too.

He darted away, leaving Pepper and Happy to listen to Cho as she began to dictate to her team.

“We missed the head wound during initial surgeries and I don’t think his enhanced healing is able to combat this,” she said as she began her assessment. She shone a light into Peter’s eye and stilled. “ICP is at critical; prep the surgery room.”

Happy and Pepper knew better than to get in their way while they helped Peter but as soon as the flurry of doctors and movement had begun to take the kid away they grabbed onto Cho. They needed an explanation, he was _recovering_ \- what the Hell happened?

“His ICP is dangerously high, we need to release it immediately.”

“We don’t know what that _is_,” Pepper ground out, “just- what is wrong with him?

“His intra-cranial pressure has been increasing since he was hurt; it’s caused by a brain bleed.”

* * *

“Tony you _need_ to come see Peter, now.”

“I already told you-”

“Something’s wrong!” _That_ stopped the inventor in his tracks. “He was talking with us, he kept saying his head hurt and then all of a sudden it was like his brain just shut off. Slurred speech, no motor control, no comprehension; Tony, you need to be up there.”

_In case he dies_, was left unsaid. 

Tony was standing stock still, his whole body tense as he listened to Rhodey, but only for a moment - the next he was gone, sprinting for the MedBay.

There were many, many, things he’d never forgive himself for - this was one of them - but he’d realized last time that sitting and waiting for news was worse, cowardly.

Before then, he’d always wondered why dying patients had their loved ones called; why would you want a family to watch their loved one die?

Now he knew, it was about being there to the very end, about showing that person - if there was something afterwards - that they’d impacted their life. Peter Parker had done that with Tony Stark more than could be possibly put into words.

He wasn’t prepared for the moment he skid to a stop outside of the surgery room, only to be met with a devastatingly flat heart monitor.

The doctors shocked Peter’s chest, no change.

“_No_,” he gasped breathlessly, “no, no, no... Peter- _c’mon_ buddy, come back.”

Happy had his fists clenched by his sides as he watched, nails creating little half-moon shapes in his palms. Pepper had looked away. Rhodey gasped as he caught up.

Tony’s world was ending.

“_Come back_,” he wailed, “come back Peter _please_.” Another shock, more compressions, no change. “I’m sorry- I’m so sorry Peter. _Please_...”

Another shock. Tony’s legs wouldn’t hold him anymore, Rhodey caught him. “I’m sorry Tony,” he was murmuring, “I’m sorry- we shouldn’t have- you shouldn’t have to watch this.”

The billionaire wailed again, fighting Rhodey’s hold to desperately hold onto the window ledge. “_Peter_, please. You can’t go; you’re supposed to be safe. I was supposed to keep you _safe_.”

The doctors were still trying to bring him back.

This was somehow so much worse than the first time around. Rhodey understood why Tony had retreated to his lab now - he wouldn’t have been able to handle the first surgery.

Tony’s sobs echoed down the hall, no one daring to make any other sounds. “Come back, come back, come back, come back...”

It felt like all the air in his chest had been ripped away, he wished it was, because this hurt. It hurt worse than anything he could have possibly imagined - and it was his fault.

He wanted to scream, he wanted to sob, he wanted to die.

And then Peter’s heart started beating again.

“Oh my God,” Pepper breathed. Tony couldn’t do anything but gasp, watch the line move with Peter’s heartbeat. He hiccuped, watching the monitor for any change until they’d finished.

_Alive. He was alive. AliveAliveAlive_

_No thanks to you._

After what was wrong with Peter was explained to him he felt that gut-twisting sense of guilt again - he remembered the exact moment Peter had been hit hard enough to cause a brain bleed; he’d slammed his head into a wall.

He followed Peter into recovery and watched him sleep for just a moment, he turned to leave, stopping only when Pepper’s slim hand encircled his own.

“You can’t disappear again,” she whispered, “he was crushed. You need to do what’s best for him - even if you feel it’s not what _you_ feel is best - and stay. I know it’s hard, but Peter needs you here.”

And _God_, Tony had never wanted anything _more_. But-

“Pepper, I did this to him.”

“He knows, and he still wanted to talk to you. If you’re going to cut yourself out of his life at least let him say he wants it that way, otherwise you’re just punishing him as well as yourself. He understands what happened to you, and I think- I think you will too, eventually, after we get you some help.”

Tony nodded, his gaze going back to his sleeping son. “He- we almost lost him.”

“And he almost lost you. Don’t waste anymore time - just sit with him.”

Tony swallowed, pushed away the screaming in his head, and sat stiffly next to the boy. Pepper’s heels retreated, shutting the door behind her gently. Tentatively, hesitantly, like an abused dog, Tony reached out and and grasped Peter’s hand with his own.

It felt like home.

The blood had been removed from his brain, the pressure had been released, his vitals had been stabilized, the only thing left was completely up to Peter - he needed to wake up.

At some point after the first three hours Tony had begun talking to him, anything and everything really. He talked about old memories the two had shared, and he made promises for new adventures for them to partake in; he bargained with Peter to wake himself up, and if the universe had worked like that he would’ve willingly given it anything.

“You know,” Tony said softly, rubbing a circle on Peter’s wrist, “when I first woke up in that Hydra facility I was so terrified that they had you too. You were my one mercy - that you weren’t with me was both a blessing and a curse, but I missed you so much, Pete. I stayed alive for you; kept living in hope that I’d see you again, safe and sound, and I knew that if I died they’d take you anyways.”

Tony huffed out a laugh, tightening his grip around Peter’s wrist. “It ended up not being them that hurt you, it was me. And I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself for that,” he took a shaky breathe, steeled himself to say words that needed to be said, “and because of that, I figured I’d leave you alone. I didn’t want to be reminded of what I’d done to you, or ever have the chance of doing it again. But I was wrong Peter.”

A sob ripped itself from his throat. “I was wrong to do that, and it was selfish and cowardly of me and I’m sorry Peter, I’m so, so sorry. I love you so much, I can’t- I can’t lose you. And I can’t run from you, I won’t, never again. And I need to say this to you but you need to wake up for me to do that so please - whatever you want, whatever price I have to pay, I’ll do it; just wake up.” Tony wasn’t sure who he was talking to by the end of it.

If this were a fairytale, or a movie, Peter would wake up then. But it wasn’t and he didn’t. So the only thing that met Tony’s emotional declaration was the sound of the teenager’s beeping heart monitor, but honestly, Tony would take it.

Much better than the silence he never wanted to hear again.

As it turns out however, life had its own mercies. One of them was that when Peter Parker did wake up it was during a time when Tony Stark was also awake.

He hadn’t liked waking up alone, before. So when his eyes blinked open and he saw his mentor there, holding his hand, his face split into a grin.

“It’s you,” he breathed. “You’re here.”

Tony’s head snapped up, his eyes searching Peter’s face in a desperate kind of hope. Peter met him with all the trust and love in the world, still contently smiling purely at the man’s very _presence_. 

“Peter,” Tony whispered, standing a bit faster than he could. “How- You’re- How do you feel?”

“I’m alright,” Peter answered easily. “I’m really glad you’re here.”

“I... I messed up kid, I know that, and I’m so, so sorry but-”

“Mr.Stark, it’s okay... I heard you.” Peter’s voice sounded brittle, Tony knew if he tried to speak his would be already broken. “I, um- I know what happened at that place. I was told and... I saw some of the footage.” Tony turned away, the whispers of _murderer_ gaining volume. “I don’t blame you for what happened, I never have, but what they did to you there-”

To the inventor’s horror, tears formed in Peter’s eyes. “Oh, no, bud- don’t. It’s okay, don’t cry.” Tony wanted to hold him, his fingers absolutely ached with the want, but he refrained. “Don’t cry Peter, it’s over now.”

“No, it’s not! Cause they hurt you so many times and it was because of _me_ and then _I_ _hurt_ you, and now you won’t even touch me, you didn’t want to even _see me_.” Peter’s tears fell unbidden, his distress palpable.

“No, Peter- You did nothing wrong, and I wish you would have fought me harder. I... I didn’t know if you’d want me to be around anymore, after what I did.”

“How could you wonder that? I _missed_ you; I know you’d never intentionally hurt me, and... and I know you love me.” The last point Peter sounded unsure about, which was absolutely unacceptable.

“Peter, look at me,” Tony realized belatedly he’d taken hold of the teen’s arms “I love you more than I’ve ever loved anything before. You’re _my kid_. You mean the world and beyond to me, and losing you... _that’s_ my Hell on earth.”

“Don’t leave me behind then,” Peter whispered, drawing his arms up and around Tony’s neck. “We’ve got a lot to talk about, but you taking the blame for this isn’t on the agenda. Just don’t- don’t disappear again.”

Tony hesitantly reciprocated the gesture, wrapping his arms around Peter’s waist and just holding him. “I won’t,” he promised, “not like that again.”

Peter let out one more sob, his arms tightening around his mentor’s neck. “I thought I was never going to see you again,” he cried, burrowing his head into Tony’s neck.

“Me too.” Tony pulled him closer, mindful of the still sore ribs. The cast lay awkward and heavy against Peter’s back, but Tony could live with it. Tony could live with anything, so long as Peter did too.

They both calmed down a bit after, but didn’t release the other from their hold. Right now, this was what they both needed. Peter fell asleep nestled in Tony’s embrace, the inventor felt the moment the breaths on his neck evened.

This used to happen a lot, before everything had happened. He’d taken it for granted then, but he wouldn’t now; like Pepper said, no more wasted time.

He carded his fingers through Peter’s hair, traced circles on his back, absentmindedly place a kiss against his forehead. It had been hard to find the courage to touch Peter again, now it was doubly so to let go of him.

He eventually got Peter tucked back against his pillows, detangling lanky teenage limbs from his neck.

The inventor cast one more fond smile at his kid and rose to leave. Peter’s hand shot out and caught his uninjured wrist.

“Don’t go...” he mumbled sleepily, not opening his eyes, “stay.”

Tony had always been wrapped around Peter’s finger, but he was quite happy to be there. “Alright,” he replied, taking his seat again. “Alright I’m right here.”

Peter was right, they had a lot to talk about. And so was Pepper, he needed to get someone to help him. But right now he felt what had been so cruelly ripped away from him in that facility; hope.

Hope, and his kid.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed that angst-fest, I definitely enjoyed writing it for my wonderful friend blondsak. If you haven't read her writing yet, I heavily encourage you to do so! 
> 
> Please leave a comment below, it makes me and my muse very happy, and it lets me know how you all feel about me constantly making poor Pete hurt like this :) 
> 
> I love you all, hope you have a wonderful autumn, and if you're returning to school; good luck!


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